


A Man with Brains

by Esteliel



Category: Les Misérables (Movie 1952)
Genre: Arm Wrestling, First Meetings, M/M, Pre-Slash, Sharing a Bed, Yuletide Treat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-23
Updated: 2020-12-23
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:00:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28265055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Esteliel/pseuds/Esteliel
Summary: "Do you know where you are staying tonight?" Robert inquired once Jacques and his father had left with a last cheerful wave at the man who had just acquired their pottery.This Monsieur Madeleine, who had entered Robert’s workshop so guilelessly, upsetting the men, judging craftsmanship and breaking plates with no apparent embarrassment, now looked startled, as if he had encountered an unexpected problem.
Relationships: Robert/Jean Valjean
Comments: 4
Kudos: 9
Collections: Recs from the Watchalong Room, Yuletide 2020





	A Man with Brains

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TwelveLeagues](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TwelveLeagues/gifts).



“Do you know where you are staying tonight?” Robert inquired once Jacques and his father had left with a last cheerful wave at the man who had just acquired their pottery.

This Monsieur Madeleine, who had entered Robert’s workshop so guilelessly, upsetting the men, judging craftsmanship and breaking plates with no apparent embarrassment, now looked startled, as if he had encountered an unexpected problem.

“There’s only the one inn,” Robert said, “and I wouldn’t recommend the _Wild Goose_ to anyone. Especially not to a man of means.”

“Oh,” Madeleine said and gave him another startled glance from those intriguing eyes. “I must say, I had not considered—”

“Indeed. You were traveling as a guest of our workshop’s former owner.”

Robert had long since figured out that the man was not what he appeared to be at a first glance: a friend of the bourgeois who had owned the pottery for these many years; a man of means who had taken a fancy to owning a pottery himself. Robert had caught a glimpse of something when Madeleine had bested him in their trial of strength. The cravat Madeleine worse had revealed a glimpse of his throat, and the markings Robert had seen there were marks he had seen before.

A galley slave, Robert had thought, and the strength of Madeleine’s arms had proved him right.

Perhaps he should have been more cautious, but Robert had always had a healthy trust in his ability to judge men. And what he had seen of this Madeleine was sufficient for him. What harm could he do? The former owner of the pottery had been paid; if Madeleine now wished to break plates and bowls, he could do so, for the pottery was his.

In any case, the pottery was failing. Perhaps Madeleine’s ideas might yet save them. Otherwise, they would not have lost anything, and Robert would have to find different work elsewhere in either case.

“But if you do not recommend the inn—”

“I cannot in good conscience recommend any place in this village,” Robert said cheerfully. “But you may stay with me tonight. Tomorrow, you might find better lodging.”

Madeleine’s eyes drifted towards the workshop, as if he were considering the sparse office with its wooden chairs that were now his. Then he glanced back at Robert.

“If it is no trouble,” he said—the man who had broken Robert’s plates and beaten him in a trial of strength now almost shy.

Already, Robert thought that he had a good idea of who this man was who had become his new employer. A man who had left the galleys would certainly not encounter much kindness. Madeleine had faced Robert’s displeasure without blinking an eye—yet when Robert offered friendship, he grew uncertain.

They would get along well, Robert thought. And if Madeleine’s new ideas for the pottery failed—well, there was always work to be found for a strong, experienced foreman.

***

“And there is the bed,” Robert said.

His portress had fed them well, delighted by the coin of gossip Madeleine did not even know he had spent. Tomorrow, she would no doubt make the rounds and inform all the neighbors about the man who had come and purchased the pottery.

“I do not need much,” Madeleine said as he looked around the small room. “I have my coat; if you have a spare blanket—”

“You will take the bed,” Robert said. “Surely you cannot believe I would let a guest sleep on the hard floor?”

Madeleine gave him another startled look, so that Robert felt that his assumptions had indeed been correct. Madeleine had seen much of hard floors and hard planks in his life.

“There is no need for that. I couldn’t possibly—”

“No arguments,” Robert said cheerfully. “I’d be damned if I let a guest of mine sleep on the cold ground.”

“Truly, there is no need,” Madeleine insisted again, casting around helplessly as if he hoped to find something that would change Robert’s mind.

With a smile, Robert slapped the small table next to his stove.

“Sit,” he said. “Let’s settle it with another trial.”

He could not deny that he was curious to feel Madeleine’s strength again. In Morvin, Robert was known for his own strength; in the workshop, he carried heavy crates of finished pottery and sacks of clay with ease. And yet this Madeleine had bested him within moments without breaking a sweat.

A curious thing it was. At the moment, it had shocked him; now that he’d exchanged more than three sentences with Madeleine, Robert found himself intrigued.

There was something strange about Madeleine. Men did not usually come out of the galleys like him—raw and uncertain, as if he took his first steps on legs too long for him. What sort of man was this Madeleine who had insulted his workers, bested Robert’s strength and then purchased the workshop?

Robert could not yet say, but he thought that he would like to find out.

Madeleine’s grip was firm. His hand felt pleasant in Robert’s own; although Madeleine’s fingers were hard with calluses, they were long, almost elegant.

This time, Robert knew what to expect. As he tensed, the muscles of his arm contracted, as hard as knotted rope. His arm was twice the size of Madeleine’s, whom by all appearances he should have bested with ease.

This time, it took longer, for Robert was not surprised by the strength straining against him From the very start, Robert fought with all his might—although even when their struggling arms pressed against each other, held in an equilibrium for a few heartbeats, he knew that he was no match for Madeleine.

A moment later, the back of Robert’s hand hit the table. He laughed and reached out with his free hand to clasp Madeleine’s shoulder.

“Well done,” he said. “No one in Morvin has managed this before. To the winner goes the bed then.”

Madeleine’s dark eyes widened when he realized at last that Robert had tricked him.

“I know you are a man with brains,” Robert said and reached out to tap his own finger against Madeleine’s brow in an imitation of the afternoon. “But don’t discount my own wit.”

“You tricked me,” Madeleine said.

Pleased, Robert smiled. “I hope it won’t mean that I will find myself out of a position tomorrow.”

Madeleine gave him another startled glance, as if he had only now realized that from today on, he was in charge of all the men the workshop employed.

“I know how to use my brain, remember,” he then said with a wry smile. “I might have ideas for how to improve the product, but I could not do the turning and glazing on my own.” His gaze sobered a little, his voice softer when he continued, “I hope you will be content to keep overseeing the workshop. I’m afraid I have never owned a pottery before.”

Robert’s eyes were drawn once more to the cotton cravat tied around Madeleine’s neck, and which, after their small trial, once more allowed him a glimpse of what seemed to be the sort of scar left only by a collar.

“I should not think so,” Robert said cheerfully, “or else you would not have bought it. It truly has not been going well at all. But I’m glad to stay on, if you’ll have me. I’m curious to see those ideas of yours in use.”

Madeleine gave the bed an uncertain look, but when he turned back to Robert, there was no uncertainty in his eyes.

“The bed is large,” he said. “Large enough that no one will have to sleep on the floor.”

“That is true,” Robert said easily and did not argue further.

Robert was the first to undress; after a moment, Madeleine began to follow, and although Robert did not want to make his guest uncomfortable, he could not help but take a curious look when Madeleine took off coat and waistcoat. Slim and tall, it seemed impossible that this man should have bested Robert—and yet the memory of the firm, pleasant grip of his hand and the strength of his arm was still lingering on Robert’s mind.

They were both in their shirtsleeves when Madeleine suddenly hesitated, his eyes widening as his fingers brushed against the cravat still knotted around his neck.

Robert quickly averted his gaze and moved to kneel in front of the stove.

“Get into bed quickly,” he said without turning his head. “The floor is cold. I’ll add more wood for the night.”

He busied himself with the stove, moving slowly to give Madeleine time. By the time he turned back from the stove, warmth spreading through the room, Madeleine was in bed, and Robert found himself struck by the sight.

It had been a while since he had last shared his bed with someone. There had been Martin, when Robert had been a journeyman. How many years had passed since then?

Too many, Robert thought, even though he was the foreman of a workshop now and had few regrets. Many nights with his bed empty.

Madeleine’s arrival would certainly not change that, although he looked very fine in Robert’s bed with his raven locks, dark eyes and strong arms. A finer thing than a humble potter deserved, perhaps, but even so Robert found himself thinking of the elegant, tall body hidden beneath Madeleine’s shirt as he slipped beneath the covers himself.

“Tomorrow I will show you more of the workshop.”

“And more of Morvin,” Madeleine said.

Robert laughed. “There is not much to see, but you will see it all,” he promised. “Good night.”

“Good night, Robert,” Madeleine said.

Robert blew out the candle and rested his head on his pillow, smiling as he listened to the quiet sounds of Madeleine’s breathing.

He still was not certain whether Madeleine’s experiment would be successful—but all the same, he was looking forward to the change it would bring.


End file.
